


My Memory of You is a Weapon

by acupracacia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellamy Blake POV, Drabble, F/M, Post 02x09, Torture, i dont know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acupracacia/pseuds/acupracacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re alive,” Clarke whispers.</p><p>He swallows down the liquid and looks her in the eyes.</p><p>“Every time I was in the brink of losing myself, I feel your arms around me. I knew I couldn't die without feeling that again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Memory of You is a Weapon

Bellamy is in love with Clarke Griffin.

 

The realization hits him like a flash of lightning as he watched the Grounder Commander initiate the execution of her most trusted guard in front of the village of Tondici.

 

A blink of an eye.

 

He saw the commander’s face morph into that of Clarke’s--her once stormy blue eyes now vacuous and steely. Her steady hands raise the sword before plunging it into the sternum of the bounded man’s body.

 

He shuts his eyes tightly and exhales hard, his heart pounding against his rib cage like the heavy beating of war drums.

 

He opens his eyes once more and looks on the bounded body.

 

A cold shiver runs through him.

 

He saw himself.

 

Bound and tied against the pole. A wound in the middle of his chest. A look of anguish and longing on his face as he stared at the woman who delivered him to his death.

 

Blood oozing out of his mouth, dripping like the river of all the unspoken words he has for her in his heart.

 

A blink of an eye.

 

Bellamy turns to look at Clarke beside him.

 

He is absolutely, irrevocably in love with her.

 

And he has never been more terrified in his entire life.

 

 

\-----

 

 

And so she delivers him to the belly of the beast.

 

 _“It’s worth the risk,”_ she says.

 

Behind the words, it meant: _“The weight of us is too heavy to bear.”_

 

He nods, eyes shifting to the ground, with the words seemingly stuck on his throat. He was a price she would be willing to pay.

 

Nothing more.

 

The once tenacious rebel king takes the map. Their hands brush for a second—his cold hand touches a fraction of her bloodstained hand. His heart skips a beat. And for moment Bellamy wonders if this would be the last of her that he would ever get the chance to hold.

 

He accepts his fate, however, like the loyal knight he has deduced himself to.

 

He will follow her to the depths of this radiation-soaked Earth. He will carry her soul inside his armor.

 

It only makes sense.

 

 

\------

 

 

When he started seeing wisps of blonde hair in his subconscious, Bellamy thought that he was close to his end.

 

Even the Mountain Men do not understand how he could have survived the torture for so long. _“Solar radiation, perhaps?”_ they mused, as they scribbled notes on their file. Regardless, they continued the punishment. He infiltrated the mountain and helped 44 of the Sky teenagers escape.

 

They knew about him of course.

 

Bellamy Blake. 23 years old. Co-leader of the teenagers.

 

The right-hand man of Clarke Griffin.

 

If anyone could make Clarke return to the mountain and surrender herself, they were sure it would have been Bellamy Blake.

 

14 days of torture.

 

Scorching hot water baths.

 

Shots of the Ceberus formula.

 

Small bone marrow extractions.

 

Enough drugs to make him lose his mind.

 

Yet, they were able to extract nothing from him but his anguished screams.

 

 

\----

 

 

Bellamy Blake swore he’d never break.

 

For his friends.

 

For Octavia.

 

For Clarke.

 

And as he braces himself for another lash of the electric whip, he closes his eyes and conjures, instead, the warmth that enveloped him when Clarke wrapped her arms so tightly around his neck. The memory was but a few weeks old, but it seemed like it has forever been etched in his mind.

 

The memory brings with it a feeling that he had no name for.

 

His body coils and shakes at the impact of the whip.

 

Even in pain he wonders, how do you call the feeling that makes you feel invincible and hopeful and infinite all at the same time? The feeling that makes Kings go to wars and sacrifice their kingdoms; like maybe if one could sufficiently encapsulate into one word the beauty and the destruction and the continuous cycle of creation in the universe.

 

The feeling that the memory invokes numbs the hurt just a bit and Bellamy, through the haze and the hunger and the soreness of his frail body, manages to summon a small smile—like a scientist that has just discovered all the secrets of the galaxy.

 

He was going to survive.

 

Through every form of torture, he conjures a memory.

 

_A small baby Octavia being handed to him by his mother._

_The smile his sister gives him when he tells her she could join the masquerade dance._

_Seeing his sister alive once more after being separated in the midst of the battle with the grounders._

_A brush of his hand on Clarke’s shoulders._

_“I need you.”_

_“You have to come with us.”_

_A blur of blonde hair running towards him._

_Clarke’s body slamming into him with such force, he swore he would have toppled over if he wasn’t steady enough._

_The feel of her lips on his neck._

_“I can’t lose you too.”_

 

They’re enough to keep him alive.

 

It was who he was—someone who survives for the people he loves.

 

It was his strength.

 

\-----

 

It takes a few more days until a rescue mission led by Clarke and Miller successfully takes Bellamy out of Mt. Weather.

 

He was alive (barely).

 

Through the journey home he felt his mangled hand being held tightly by warm ones.

 

He didn't need to open his eyes to know whose hands they were.

 

\-----

 

The next time he floats into consciousness, he finds tired and teary blue eyes watching him. Clarke carefully hands him a can of what he assumes is water.

 

 _“You’re alive,”_ Clarke whispers.

 

He swallows down the liquid and looks her in the eyes.

 

_“Every time I was in the brink of losing myself, I feel your arms around me. I knew I couldn't die without feeling that again.”_

 

A heartbeat passes before he is enveloped in the warmth once again.

 

It’s worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2am. This is completely unedited.
> 
> I was playing "All You Wanted" by Sounds Under Radio on loop while writing his.
> 
> Come over at tumblr and say hi! @everyonesapony


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